


rituals of summer

by a_very_smol_frog



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Metaphors, One Shot, Summer Love, Teen Romance, cause its me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:54:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28736070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_very_smol_frog/pseuds/a_very_smol_frog
Summary: HAPPY BIRTHDAYMira<3!!!!Thank you so much for being such a wonderful friend! I hope that you're having a wonderful day full of perspectives and normal sized chairs!!!Ily <3
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	rituals of summer

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY [Mira](https://twitter.com/mirandarv17) <3!!!! 
> 
> Thank you so much for being such a wonderful friend! I hope that you're having a wonderful day full of perspectives and normal sized chairs!!!
> 
> Ily <3

Tsukishima’s summer days were full of indistinct memories, defined only by the burn of the sun across his cheeks and a spatter of freckles across his nose. Time slipped by slowly, but within the blink of an eye the crisp winds of autumn swept out the humidity, and Tsukishima found himself shackled to a desk chair—longing for sunshine filled days once again. 

When he closed his eyes, sometimes he could conjure up the dull buzz of cicadas or feel the sweat drip down his temple. But today he didn’t have to force that imagery as he walked across the sizzling blacktop, involuntarily pushed out of the blissful air conditioning of his home by his mother’s shooing hands. 

The air was hazy with heat. Tsukishima’s energy was drained out of him—drop by drop—it puddled in the small of his back, causing his damp shirt to cling uncomfortably to his skin. Wading through the stagnant humidity, forcing the wetness in and out of his lungs with heavy heaves, made his shoulders droop and his steps drag.

He didn’t even need to think about where his feet were taking him. His body moved on auto-pilot, seamlessly avoiding every bump and crack in the sidewalk without even a brief glance down. Three turns left, one turn right, down past the house with the annoying yorkie that always barked too much, and stopping right in front of a small one story building with a red door and blue shutters. 

There was an old tire swing hanging from the thick branch of an oak tree, the ridges in the rubber worn smooth from years of exposure to the elements. Tsukishima plopped down, twisting and twirling until the front door creaked open. When they had first started this ritual, his feet hung at least a foot off the ground, but now his legs sprawled out across the dirt. 

Strong hands wrapped around the chain just above where his head laid. A mess of black hair blocked his view, and when Tsukishima tilted his head up, a pair of chapped lips pressed gently against his own. 

This part of the ritual was new, but it crawled like syrupy sunshine through his veins, and suddenly, the outside air felt cool compared to the warmth that smoldered in his gut. Time hung idle around them, like it, too, was dragged down to a crawl because of the sweltering heat.

Far too soon for his liking, they broke apart, and an impatient hand tugged at his shirt, pulling him up off the old swing. Their fingers intertwined; it was too hot for even the minimal contact, but Tsukishima found he didn’t mind the extra sweat against his palm. He’d never tell Kuroo that though, but he had a feeling the other boy already knew by the way he smirked when Tsukishima looked over at him. 

Tsukishima blamed the heat crawling across his cheeks on the sun. The silence between them was comfortable—their relationship long past the need for mindless chatter. Besides, a small squeeze of a hand or a gentle brush of lips against knuckles said more than words would ever be able to. 

Things between them had changed so much, but at the same time not at all. It felt like swimming through waters he had previously just waded in. The feelings were familiar, but deeper now. They took more energy, forcing Tsukishima to explore parts of himself he had never ventured to before, but the reward was more than worth the cost. He looked over at Kuroo, staring now because it was a luxury only he was afforded, and appreciated the tautness of the light blue t-shirt stretched across broad shoulders. 

In the quiet hours of the night, when he only had his thoughts to keep him company, Tsukishima worried about if he could possibly live up to the expectations of the boy four blocks away. The same one who stayed home on Saturday evenings to help his grandma tend to her garden, and who cried when he couldn’t save a baby bird that fell from it’s nest. A boy who held him so tenderly and kissed him so sweetly, it made Tsukishima’s teeth ache and his hands tremble. 

It was terrifying, loving someone so much that just the mention of their name stole the breath from your lungs. But Kuroo was worth it. And so, even if Tsukishima didn’t feel like he was worthy to cradle the heart of a boy who was just as gentle as he was strong, Tsukishima would work everyday until he was. He made that promise one night as they sat on the roof and stared up at the stars, silently sending it to the heavens and hanging it in the night sky. That way, on the days where the weight of the world was too heavy—the burden threatening to break his back—all he had to do was look up at the glittering golden light dotting the plums and indigoes of twilight and remember amber eyes the same exact shade as stardust. 

Even now, they shined as they caught his gaze, and no matter how brightly it burned, the sun would always pale in comparison. 

Their first stop was the single gas station in the center of their small village. The orange and green paint on the side of the building was bleached and chipped, and the flickering LED lights cast a dingy yellow glow. Tsukishima let out a soft sigh of relief as he stepped through the squeaky sliding glass doors—thankfully, the air conditioning unit was better maintained than the rest of the building. 

He savored the few precious moments of standing in the refreshing crisp air from the cooler before the old man behind the register yelled at him to close the door. The glass bottle clutched in his palm instantly became slick from the heat that radiated off his skin. 

Kuroo pulled out a few crumbled bills and coins from his pocket and unceremoniously deposited them in the little plastic tray. They received a crotchety farewell as they slinked back out into the oppressive heat. The bitter-sweet taste of yuzu tea gave Tsukishima temporary respite from the suffocating air, baked by the cracked and cratored concrete of the parking lot. 

“Come on.” Kuroo tossed his already empty and crumpled bottle of lemonade into a nearby trash bin, linking pinkies with Tsukishima and pulling him towards the promise of shade. 

There was no rhyme or reason to where they wandered. They let the wind carry them; sometimes, it led them to the grassy banks of the river, others, it took them to a forgotten grove in the woods, but today they found themselves wading through a meadow of knee high flowers that rippled like waves in the wind. 

Butterflies drifted through the stems like lost boats looking for shore. Petals quivered in the breeze—crimson, burgundy, and carmine spilled across the field—the scenery overflowing with summer’s treasures. In a few months, this land will be barren, but nestled beneath the soil is the promise of another sunny day, and, as just as surely as the earth drifts on its axis, these gems will return. 

“Tsukki, stop.” Tsukishima’s feet rooted themselves to the ground, and he turned just in time to hear the soft click of a camera. The machine whirred and spit out a hazy gray rectangle. 

“What’s that?” Kuroo took the filmy strip in his hand and began to wave it back and forth with a quick flick of his wrist. 

“A polaroid. Gimme a sec.” Slowly the fog lifted off the picture, and the sapphire blue skies and ruby red petals became visible. Standing in the middle of it all was Tsukishima, who was looking off into the distance. Nestled into the top of his hair were sunburnt orange wings: a little boat who had finally found sand. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Kuroo whispered against his skin. His lips tasted like ice cold lemonade and sweat. It reminded Tsukishima of sleepy summer days and sun bleached polaroids—it reminded him of the best days of his life. 


End file.
